The Circle Rune War: Book One - Voices In The Wind
by Starmongoose
Summary: This story finally tells the mysterious tale of Hikusaak, leader of Harmonia. Set many hundreds of years before the events of Suikoden 1 (and even Suikoden IV), find out just how Hikusaak came to possess the Circle Rune and the tragic events surrounding it.
1. Chapter 1 - Hikusaak

PROLOGUE

Forty times the sun rose before her eyes and forty times it fell below the horizon. Forty days since they had put the babe in her belly. Forty nights since they chained her in this cell. Her belly grew each day and the sickness that came to her each time she woke was left evident on her clothes. As she watched the sun rise for the forty-first time through the barred arched window that faced her cell, she swore the same oath she had sworn every morning since her son, her true son, left this world. An oath of vengeance. Vengeance for her blood, vengeance for her country, vengeance for the girl they killed all those years ago. With concerted effort, she lifted her head and looked up at her shackled left hand that hung from the wall. Golden shafts of sunlight kissed her face gently, and in that godly light she saw the instrument of her vengeance, a rune tattoo. When a rune attaches itself to a person, markings show through the skin where it resides. Though this was no ordinary rune, she knew. This was one of the 27 True Runes and her tattoo was of a great, golden dragon.

HIKUSAAK

Highlake was the highest point in The Tonjord, apart from Penguin Mons, and from the city walls a man could see farther to the west than from any other place, if you had eyes keen enough. Where The Tonjord was a cold place, completely surrounded by mountain and sea, the western lands were green and fertile, though Hikusaak knew that one day they would start to wither and die. That was the curse of the Sindar, the white haired demons. The mere thought of them caused his blood to boil, as it should in any young Tonjordaian boy. From his vantage point he could see them, a forward camp just over half a league away, though they dared not get any closer. The last time they tried to enter Tonjord lands, Hikusaak's father lit the warning fires across the Two Pass mountain, signalling battle for the troops stationed in both Highlake and Whitecliff, which lay on the other side of the pass.

Hikusaak's father, Mayor Berthold Lightseer, knew that a battle in the open plains away from the mountains was a lost cause however, as Tonjordi are a mountain folk and the mountains were their steadfast allies. So instead he drew the Sindar troops into the pass using a small force who would attack and then retreat, feigning defeat and causing the too arrogant Sindar to follow them into Two Pass down Whitecliff way, where Lord Mayor Baxtrix Nirro's larger army lay in wait. The Tonjord army was perfectly equipped for rugged terrain, they were master of camoflage and could blend into any part of the pass easily. The Sindary never knew that for every man they chased, fifty more waited for them in the pass. Not a single Sindar lived to tell the tale. Mayor Nirro wanted to line the mountain with white haired Sindar heads, though Hikusaak's father petitioned against it, and convinced him to let the Sindar come collect their dead for proper burial rites. Mayor Lightseer got his wish, as the two men were like brothers to one another, though not by blood. Hikusaak had been calling Mayor Baxtrix 'uncle' for as long as he could remember.

A rock whooshing past his ear brought Hikusaak from out of his reverie and a girls voice called from below the wall, "You ain't gonna kill 'em just by starin' at em, little coz." she shouted. Hikusaak scowled at her from atop the wall. He knew her well of course, they had been neighbors all their lives. She was red of hair and pale of complexion, she was tall for her age, standing near a foot taller than Hikusaak who was only a few months her junior. Her name was Boudessa Morningstar and though she talked like a commoner, she was of noble birth like Hikusaak. "I am not your cousin, lest you forget." He cried down to her, which caused her to roll her eyes. "So frequently you like to remind me, little coz. I'm beginning to think you don't like me." She feigned hurt and placed the back of her hand on her forehead, mock fainting. "I'd like you just fine should you withhold throwing rocks at my head, Bo. I've had quite enough of that today."

With one last glance at the horizon, Hikusaak began to descend the wall. He had been climbing it since he was small, and his feet were sure. When he reached the bottom he got a better look at his childhood friend. Though her father forbade her wearing trousers like a boy, she often still managed to dress herself in a tomboyish fashion. Today however she was wearing a white dress with impractical shoes and stockings, a bear fur mantle hung around her shoulders protecting her from the cold. "Why, you look almost like a girl wearing that, Bo." said Hikusaak, which earned him a swift punch in the arm. Afterwards she began to unclip the turtledove clasps that adorned her usually wild mane of hair. "Trust me, I ain't wearin' this by my own volition, coz. My pa decided it's time I started courtin' guys again, y'know, find a future husband." She oft spoke of this subject with a chagrin that perplexed Hikusaak. "That makes sense, you are fifteen, Bo. A woman should be looking for a husband." It all seemed so obvious to Hikusaak, but Boudessa just sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Who says I need a husband, eh? Lady Gwendoline Fairmaid of Lyre never took no husband." said Boudessa, tucking the last of the turtledoves into her pocket and shaking her head, causing her hair to fan out like wildfire. Hikusaak had to laugh. "Lady Gwendoline? They say she prefers the company of the gentler sex," Hikusaak snickered, "pray tell, Bo, are you also fond of such unseemly activities? Mayhaps your father would like to know." Boudessa scrunched up her nose and looked horrified at the thought. "I don't mean nothin' like that, you're twistin' my words, coz. I'm just sayin' a woman can get by without a man." Boudessa squinted her eyes at Hikusaak "Besides, fifteen ain't so old. Your Ma was in her twenties before she married your pa."

"My mother isn't nobly born, you know that." said Hikusaak, "So, how did it go? The courting I mean." Hikusaak and Boudessa walked through the streets of Highlake. They were well known to locale, who waved and smiled politely as they past, due to the respect both their fathers commanded. They stopped at the stone steps of the True Water shrine, though of course the True Water rune wasn't here, and sat. Boudessa explained as they walked, "Need I say it? It was a disaster. D'ya know who my father was tryin' to match me with? Guess." Hikusaak shrugged, "Peter Hawkshaw! Little Blind Pete!" she explained, trusting her arms up into the air in outrage. Hikusaak shrugged once more, "So? Blind Pete's a nice guy. He's not actually blind you know, just nearsighted." Boudessa waved her hand dismissively, "Course I know he's not blind, and it wouldn't matter if he was, neither. He's just so stupid! All he ever talks about is killing those Sindar swine, yet he knows if anyone puts a spear in his hand he'll end up plucking out their eye with it cause he can't see two feet from his face!" She sighed exasperated, "And yet he still has more right to go into battle than I do." Hikusaak knew this was another point of contention for Boudessa, "Well, you are a woman..."

She shot him a dark look. "Oh! Am I? I didn't notice, thanks for reminding me, little coz. I thought I had just misplaced my cock." Her voice was raised, and Hikusaak looked around the courtyard of the shrine in a panic lest anyone hear her. "You're not supposed to swear here, Bo." Yet she hardly seemed to care. "Let's just say our prayers and go home." She sounded tired. Together they both fell to their knees on the snowy steps of the shrine and clasped their hands before the engraved visage of the True Water Rune and prayed in unison.

"Oh, most gentle of the True Runes, give us your protection

For we are your children, in need of succor

Though those who wish to harm us hammer at our gate

With your support we stand strong

For we are of Tonjord, born of sea and ice

Forever, til the end of days."

When they finished they headed home together. Hikusaak saw her to the gates of her fathers estate and then went to his own. His fathers estate was the largest in all Highlake, though other mayors boasted more ostentatious dwellings, Hikusaak shared his fathers enjoyment for more humble lodgings. With only three stories, many nobles in the capital state of Mera could beat it in size. Though a smaller home was easier to heat, and Hikusaak's mother always kept the fires burning. Though she was from The Tonjord originally, she traveled with a group of performing actors during much of her youth and had grown accustomed to more humid climates. When he entered the foyer he gave his coat and leather boots to Franko, the Head Servant, who took them off to get dry. Growing up, Hikusaak thought that Franko would be what a grandfather would be like. Sindar soldiers killed his real grandparents many years before he was born, when his father was still a boy, when the war first started. Franko was well past seventy, but was still eager to serve. He was kindly and would often tell Hikusaak stories at night when his parents were busy, or he would sneak him a potch to buy sweets with. His mother once told him that Franko's homeland had been taken from him by the Sindar over fifty years ago, Hikusaak clenched his teeth thinking about it.

He was starved and went to the kitchens for some cold meats and cheese, first. He noted the absence of his mothers cook and figured that it must be his night off. Once he had eaten his fill he climbed to the second floor, and entered the retiring room, where his parents would often sit after a days work and drink brandy. Though his parents were indeed there, he was shocked to find another person in the room as well, talking and smiling with his mother. It was a woman with blonde hair so vivid it almost seemed as it were waves of molten gold cascading down her back. She was wearing riding clothes, with a sky blue cape fastened around her shoulders, and golden gloves on her hands. On her head rested a golden circlet, with what appeared to be a sapphire that gave her the appearance of having a third eye. When his mother saw him enter the room she squealed with delight.

"Hikusaak, child, come meet our guest!" She smiled her infectious smile, which Hikusaak had to return. His mother was petite with auburn hair, and a figure like a ballerina. Her face was kindly, though people oft said Hikusaak took more off his father than he did his mother. His father smiled, "Son, meet Lissgeth. She'll be staying with us for the time being." His lord father motioned for him to sit down on the opposite couch from the stranger. As he sat, the stranger bowed her head slightly and smiled. "The pleasure is mine. As your lord father already mentioned, my name is Lissgeth. Pardon my clothes, I just arrived from Whitecliff a short time ago." Hikusaak couldn't deny she was beautiful, yet he couldn't place her age. His mother said it was rude to ask a woman her age, so he bit his tongue. "A pleasure, Lady Lissgeth. I am Hikusaak." He bowed his head in return. She chuckled jovially "Oh, I promise you I am no lady, m'lord." Her accent was also hard to place, certainly not from Tonjord, perhaps from over the sea. The Queendom of Falena, or the Tarvas maybe.

"Where do you hail from, Lady, er, I mean, Lissgeth?" he asked. He still found it hard to believe she wasn't a noble of some sort. "Oh, here and there" was the vague answer he received in return. "Mayor Lightseer, I hate to be a bother, but might I retire to my chambers? I've traveled the best part of a week and I confess, I'm desperate to sleep in a feather bed again." His lord father nodded at once, "Of course, Lissgeth! Emily, could you get Franko to show her to her bed?" His mother waved her hand "Oh, psh, I'll show her myself. Come Lissgeth, we can have a womanly chat as we walk." Lissgeth took his mothers hand and they walked arm and arm to the door as out as if they were old friends. Once the door was closed Hikusaak shot a quizzical look at his father.

"Who's she then?" asked Hikusaak. His father stretched and suddenly seemed very tired, he was always a good host, he could have been an actor like his mother if he hadn't been a soldier. His father pulled up the leg of his trousers and began unstrapping the belts that kept his fake leg in place. He had lost it during the war. "Nothing that concerns you, son." He said. Such evasive answers always meant it was work related, his father rarely talked to him about the ins and outs of his work, though Hikusaak was curious to know. Hikusaak looked into the fire in the hearth and closed his eyes, his father rubbed the stump above the knee, massaging the sore muscles. He often complained of sensations in his leg, where there was none. The doctors said it was a common affliction.

"How was your training today, son?" His father asked. Hikusaak was in training to be a soldier, like his father was before him. Each day he went to the training grounds with the other boys and got drilled under Old Mossheart. He served in the first years of the war and was the one to find Hikusaak's father, crying over the bodies of his slain mother and father. House Lightseer had much to thank for Captain Mossheart, as he delivered his father Berthold to House Nirro in Whitecliff for warding. When his father became Mayor of Highlake, the first thing he did was give Captain Mossheart lands and a position of respect, training the new recruits. "It went well father, I bested Tom Blackgate in a duel though he didn't take it so well. Threw a rock at the back of my head, Old Mossheart made him run twenty laps for that one." Hikusaak laughed, but his father gave an unapproving look. "That's Captain Mossheart, boy. He's a man who should be respected." His father stared until Hikusaak nodded in agreement, and then went back to rubbing his sore stump. "What about your archery? John said your like to feather one of our own than a Sindar with the way you aim."

Hikusaak's face flushed. Old Mossheart has been informing on him to his father, he should have figured. "I'll get it, don't fret father. I'll be standing atop that wall feathering Sindar so far away, even rune magic won't be able to touch me." Hikusaak grinned so boyishly, his father had to laugh. "You better. Now off to bed, it's getting late." Hikusaak bowed to his father who bowed his head in return and he left his father to solitude. On the way back to his bedroom, Hikusaak thought he heard whispering. He stopped and listened, and sounded out that it was coming from a guest room. Was it Lissgeth and his mother gossiping? He was curious to know and gently tiptoed to the door, as to make sure the floorboards didn't creak. However, when he pressed his ear to the door he heard nothing. Then suddenly, the door flew inward, knocking him off balance.

Lissgeth stood in the doorway, looking down at the fallen lord. She was tying a robe around her, clearly ready for bed. "It's not nice to spy on ladies, little lord." she said, a smile playing on her lips. Hikusaak fumbled his words as he tried to find his feet, horribly embarrassed. "I, um, I wanted to speak to my mother." he said. "You're mother isn't here, I'm afraid. Just me. Though I am quite tired, so, if it please you little lord, good night." Hikusaak mindlessly nodded and Lissgeth closed the door. Hikusaak quickly darted to his own room further down the hall and closed the door, his heart racing. He could have sworn he had heard two voices.


	2. Chapter 2 - Rian

RIAN

Rian stood outside his tent and gazed eastward to the snowy mountains still in his nightshirt. It was coming up on the third year since the Aronian Territorial Army had made camp mere leagues from the harsh and rugged Tonjord mountain range. It was a natural fort, surrounded by sea and stone and prone to harsh storms that make traversing either a dangerous task, if not suicide. Yet, nestled between those mountains was a rich and fertile land despite the cold. All in all, The Tonjord was a tough nut to crack. It had been one lunar cycle since Rian had come to the forward camp in his first acting role as a war tactician and already he was running out of ideas. The only entrance by land was through a treacherous pass that forked in opposite directions in the middle. Field Marshal Godric Halfshield's men had learned its dangers the hard way a short time before Rian arrived, when a battalion of greenhorns lead by the now late Sir Malcom chased too far into that pass and were set upon from above by an army of Tonjordi spearmen. It was a bloody business, with no survivors, though a temporary ceasefire was allowed to collect the dead. In Aronian culture, funeral rites were very important. Traditionally each Aronian man or woman is laid to rest in the soil naked. The hope is that their decaying bodies would give the land some of its vitality back.

There were two entrances by sea, though the northern one wasn't even worth considering as long as the Penguin Clan still had hold of the True Water Rune. That left the south sea which was ruled over by a fierce she-pirate the Sindar had dubbed 'The Sea Witch'. In her younger days The Sea Witch was a sight no Sindari shipcaptain wished to see. Her pirate fleet was notorious not only for plundering riches, but for kidnapping refugees from Home Ships and taking them back to The Tonjord. "The Wind knows what she did with them after that.", thought Rian. Though as fierce and unappealing as it seemed, taking on the The Sea Witch was their best hope at getting a foothold. Rian walked back into his tent.

He always rose early in the morning, for as long as he could remember. It was no secret to himself as to why he preferred being awake when many others were still sleeping soundly. For a while he could walk freely and not have to bear the stares of those he walked past. No one tried to speak with him and pretend they didn't know that something was wrong, either. He didn't enjoy being alone, but it was preferable. After changing out of his night clothes and donning a set of traditional Aronian robes and sandals as befitting his position, he ventured back outside. The morning was crisp and chilly, an eastern breeze carrying the chill of the mountains their way. Morning dew still clung to the canvas of the tents, which were arranged neatly and in order of size. The sun had just risen, and as such the only people mulling around were squires doing their duties, too sleep-eyed to notice Rian at all, or the cooks who were preparing the army's breakfast in the mess tent. That was Rian's destination.

For all he could say about missing the lavish comforts of his home back in the capital, the food served in the Territorial Army mess tent was among the best he had tasted. As he pulled back the canvas and entered the tent he noted a couple of other early risers. "So much for not being bothered..." he muttered darkly. The first was of no surprise to Rian as she could be more often found sniffing around the mess tent searching for morsels chef Frantastico had left lying around than attending her actual duties in the rune tent. Her name was Alicia and she was the army runemistress. Though Rian had little to no need for her she was supposedly very talented in her craft though her real passion was food. Which was evidently displayed by her plump frame. Like Rian she was of clear Sindar stock, as was evident in her white curls. She was sitting at a table, her hands wafting the scent of her breakfast up into her nostrils for her to enjoy before she tucks in.

The second was an unfamiliar face, a knight judging by his armour. His hair was long and dark, his skin a dark tan. Grasslander blood, perhaps. As Rian went to stand behind the man, he began to wonder at which point he began trying to work out the heritage of the people he met. Aronian culture over the years had become such a hodgepodge of different ways of life that it became almost entirely unnecessary. He also wondered if a queue is formed by the first person in the line, or when the second person joins him. The dark haired knight was speaking to the assistant chef, Olivia, as Rian approached. She always seemed to have a perpetual smile on her lips, which was a small wonder in and of itself considering she worked under the brilliant yet utterly flamboyant and mad chef Frantastico.

"Your looking radiant as ever this morning, Olivia, you brighten my day just by the sight of you." Said the dark haired knight, his elbow leaning on the counter where Olivia serves the food prepared each meal time. Olivia wore her seemingly unbreakable smile and placed a piece of fried and salted fish onto a bowl of rice porridge and handed it over the counter to him. "That's very sweet of you to say, thanks so much Lon-kyu," she said brushing away the bangs of her white hair as she passed the bowl, "will I be seeing you again at lunch time?"

The dark haired knight whose name was apparently Lon-kyu seemed overjoyed at her reaction, though it seemed quite plain to Rian. "Well, of course! An opportunity to see you that goes wasted is an affront to the Voice of the Wind himself!" That caused Olivia's eyes to dart towards Rian nervously, though her smile seemed unmoved. Rian knew what she was thinking, but he didn't much care. As Lon-kyu went off to a table to eat his breakfast and no doubt try to steal loving gazes with the seemingly uninterested Olivia, Rian stepped up to the counter.

"Ah, Lord Rian. It's good to see you again this morning." Rian smiled and nodded in return "Good morning Olivia, what do we have on the menu this morning?" Olivia began spooning the rice porridge into a bowl, a perfect base for a chilly morning like this. Then she lifted up a slice of seasoned fish. "Fish caught in the north sea," she said with a wicked smile, "stolen straight from under the penguins noses. Beaks? Physiology unclear." She giggled and placed the fish on top of the porridge. "I know I've mentioned it before, but you can get your food served to your tent during meal times. It's not common for men of your stature to come down to the mess tent each day." Her smile held firm, yet her eyes deceived her. Rian didn't have to guess what worried her. "Ah, my apologies. Have I been causing a bit of a ruckus? I hope I've not made things difficult for you." She looked as if she were about to deny that it was true but a highly recognizable bellow came from behind her, telling the truth of the matter. "Yez! Very difficult! You put people off Frantaztico's food! Your fazer may be ze Voice of ze Wind, but in zis tent Frantaztico iz king!" From the back of the kitchen through a sheet of canvas, Frantastico emerged wearing his whites and wielding a ladle. His was tall and thin, with a pointed black mustache and beard. Olivia smiled apologetically, or at least Rian assumed that was what the smile meant, in truth it hadn't changed much at all.

"Yes, of course. My apologies chef. I'll be taking my meals in my tent from now on." Rian tried to hide his embarrassment. Stares and whispers were one thing, but to be called out openly for what he is, Rian was having a difficult time not balling up and crying like a child. 'No,' he thought, 'I must be strong. I'm a man grown now and I need to act as such. I must make father proud.' After Frantastico had said his peace he turned to Olivia and crossed his arms. "And what iz this?" He pulled a spoon from his lapel and dipped it into the rice porridge that Olivia was serving from a large pot and tasted it. It barely touched his lips before he spat it out. "Blech! Vile! Terrible! Throw it out and start again." With a flourish he turned and went back into the kitchen. Olivia sighed and picked up the steel pot which should have been impossible for her small body to lift. "I'm sorry," she said, "I'll deliver your meals myself. I promise." She smiled her perpetual smile at Rian and then went back into the kitchen herself.

Rian had lost his appetite and opted to leave the bowl on the counter. Alicia would no doubt spot it and take the bowl into her custody for questioning. He left the mess tent and headed for the War Tent on the hill. The camp had become a little more lively in the small amount of time he spent not eating in the mess tent. Knights were now rising and checking on their horses before heading to go eat themselves. Rian would prep the maps and documents in the War Tent meanwhile. Within the hour Field Marshall Halfshield would join him, and then after a number of captains. The subject of today's meeting was regarding a peculiar letter received in the night. The rider came dressed in black from the direction of the Tonjord waving a white flag. Rian sat on his chair around the table in the tent and read the letter once more.

**When the moon is new the sinister path is weakest. The falcon is your friend. **

In truth it was more a note than a letter. As Rian sat and pondered its meaning Sir Godric entered looking as bristly as ever. His white her flared from his head like an angry lions mane. If Olivia had a perpetual smile, Godric has a perpetual scowl. Though Rian had to admit it could be his own presence which causes the war hero his discomfort. Neither exchanged words, instead Rian busied himself jotting down figures regarding provisions and enemy movements in his war journal while Sir Godric sat at the end of the table and scowled at nothing in particular. Mercifully it wasn't long before the other captains arrived. Sir Nolesway was first, the eldest of the captains having just celebrated his 53rd birthday. He was well loved among his battalion, and his war stories more often than not ended in a steamy tryst with some damsel or another. Next was Lady Stormbright, though a hero in her own right she is most known for being one of the greatest war heroes in Aronian history, Ruth Langui's squire. Most accounts of Lady Langui's death were written from Lady Stormbrights telling as she was the one who held her in her arms as Lady Langui lay dying at the battle for Balko on Sea. Rian noted that she was always the one who sat closest to him in war meetings, which made him like her all the more. Lastly was Gerrak, a Tarvasi who bore no titles and accepted no land. When the Sindar came to relocate the people of Tarva, a small island that Aronia used as a temporary home but was ultimately unsustainable almost five hundred years prior, the Tarvasi fought so bravely and fiercely The Voice of the Wind offered them a special place within Aronian society, letting them practice their teachings and worship their false gods in exchange for their gifts as warriors. Gerrak is a pure blood descendant of those people.

When the five of them were seated around the war table, Sir Godric spoke. "No doubt you all know by now, but there was a rider in the night. Likely sent by the Tonjordi. Lord Winds, show them the message." Rian nodded and passed the note to Lady Stormbright, who past it to Sir Nolesway, who passed it to Gerrak who couldn't read so he passed it to Sir Godric. "When the moon is new," said Lady Stormbright, "that's only seven days hence." Lord Godric stroked his chin ponderously before looking at Rian. "What's this business with the 'sinister path'?".

Rian cleared his throat and recalled his conclusions. "If i'm to understand it, I believe they are referring to the left path. Sinister is an old way to denote left-handedness. As for which left path, I've concluded that they are referring to Two Pass. While the rightmost path leads you to Whitecliff, the leftmost path takes you to-" "Highlake." interrupted Sir Nolesway, "Then is this note informing us of some troop movement that will leave Highlake defenseless on the new moon?" The old knight seemed skeptical. Rian didn't blame him, there was no reason for Tonjord to betray themselves. They had the upper hand and they knew it.

Lady Stormbright chimed in. "A trap. Not even a good trap, even. Are we supposed to fall for this and send our army into Two Pass and be slaughtered once more?" Field Marshal Halfshield winced at that and slammed a fist down on the table, which only earned a sideways glance from Lady Stormbright. "I agree with Lady Stormbright. It isn't a very good trap." said Rian, "But then that poses the question, why make the trap so obvious? No, I think this letter is genuine. There is someone is the Tonjord trying to help us." Sir Godric grunted and rolled his eyes. Lady Stormbright and Sir Nolesway stayed silent and examined unimportant spots in their armour. To Rian's surprise it was Gerrak who spoke up. "I agree. The Tonjordi are proud people, they fight with honor. Such trickery is beneath them."

Sir Godric bristled even more at the sound of Gerrak giving the Tonjordi a compliment of all things. Sir Malcom's failing hurt the reputation of Sir Godric's army badly and the last thing he wanted to hear was praise for the enemy. "They fight with honor?! Do you jest, Gerrak? Where was this so called Tonjordi honor at the slaughter at Two Pass?" Sir Godric slammed his fist on the table once more. Gerrak looked unperturbed, "No slaughter would have taken place if Sir Malcom had disciplined his troops correctly. They choose to fight on home soil, it was a common war tactic and he fell for it. This doesn't dishonor the Tonjord, only us."

It was Lady Stormbright's hearty laugh that broke the uncomfortable staring contest between Gerrak and Sir Godric. "Being educated by a s_avage_, Godric. Whatever will be next." She winked at Gerrak and let out another chuckle. "Enough, Gloria. If I hear anyone else praising those penguin fucking bastards again, I'll make a new pair of boots out of them." The room was silent, though Lady Stormbright seemed just as bemused. Gerrak seemed entirely unfazed, but poor Sir Nolesway looked like he was going to fret himself into an early grave. In an attempt to get the meeting back on track he offered another question. "Who is this Falcon who is our friend, then?"

They all looked at Rian. This surprised him as most of his tenure here had left him with this impression his opinion was entirely unappreciated, being only a boy if sixteen. "No doubt The Falcon is our informant." said Rian, flipping through the pages of his journal looking for any mention of falcons, but nothing seemed forthcoming. "If I had to guess, perhaps the falcon is a house sigil." That reminded Rian of a book he had brought with him, detailing the noble houses of the Tonjord. His sister Jeane had given him it before he left, he had almost wept as they parted.

"I will think about this for the day. We will meet again on the morrow and decide our plan of action." Sighed Sir Godric, rising from his chair. Everyone else followed and bowed as he left the tent. Quickly Rian gathered his books and the mysterious note and parted ways with the three captains. He was curious to know what the book said regarding house sigils in the Tonjord. As he was passing he witnessed a friendly duel between two greenhorns.

The duel seemed horribly one-sided in Rian's opinion. The boy with the wooden sword had to be a good foot and a half shorter than the boy with practice hammer. It reminded Rian of the duels he would have with his older brother Reinfield back at the palace. Reinfield was General in the Royal Army now, the pride of Aronia. Rian watched the duel a little longer, curious to see if the smaller boys size would give him a speed advantage over the bigger lad. For a while that seemed to be the case, when the larger boy swung his hammer the smaller boy narrowly dodged and lunged, though to the larger boys credit the lunges never hit their mark either. However when it looked like the taller boy was going to lose through sheer exhaustion, Rian saw the telltale glow on the boys left hand. "No!" Rian yelled, but it was too late. The Lightning rune on the boys left hand activated, and what was probably meant to be a tickling jolt of electricity in the smaller boys direction turned into a vortex of air cracklingly powerful lightning magic that ripped at his own skin and charred his flesh.

A laundry maid who was watching the duel with a lovelorn interest screamed in horror as she turned and fled. The smaller boy dropped his wooden sword and froze in place. More and more soldiers were gathering around, swords drawn, many thinking they were under enemy attack. Rian knew the truth though. This was his curse. It wasn't long before the laundry girl came back with Alicia the runemistress in tow, who waddled up to the blackened body of the boy who had wielded the hammer. She glanced at the crowd and her eyes spotted Rian among them, she shot him a glare and Rian turned and ran from the area as fast as he could, to his own tent. He couldn't be there when she used her Flowing rune to attempt to save the boy, or that would backfire too.

When he reached his tent Rian fell to the floor and slammed his fists into the ground and he wept. He had probably killed that boy just by being around him. Rian was cursed since the day he was born. The day he killed his mother. Since he was a child no rune could be affixed to his body, he repelled every one. Even the mere presence of him caused runes to go haywire and become uncontrollable when tapped into. A curse that prevented him from joining the army as a soldier as his elder brother had done, or join the ranks of rune masters like his elder sister. It was Reinfield who had suggested learning how to become a tactician, so that they might still fight together on the battlefield some day. Rian pictured Reinfields face on that of the boy with the hammer. That could have been his own brother he just killed.

It seemed like only minutes Rian lay on the floor, but it must have been well over an hour when Alicia walked in his tent and sat her self on his cot. He picked himself up and tried to look respectable. He searched her face for a sign. "He's dead." she said. Rian started sobbing again. Alicia stood up and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him to her ample breast. "You really are just a child. What are you doing here?" He looked up at her and he had no answer.


End file.
